


Waking Days

by videogamelover99



Series: A Different Form a Different Time [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Based on Flat Dreams by Pengychan, Gen, Human Bill Cipher, Nightmares, also the human bill au on tumblr, axolotl's poem, bill is fucking dead inside, bill realizes he done fucked up, get rekt Bill, i would say poor baby but he deserves it, like ACTUALLY human though, more warnings to come, no powers or anything, that's it that's the au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/videogamelover99/pseuds/videogamelover99
Summary: Bill Cipher is reborn, but not in the way he would have wanted. Stuck as a mortal and relying on those who brought his downfall, he realizes that maybe he didn't lie as hard as he should've.Says he's happy. He's a liar.





	1. Enter Bill Cipher

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flat Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062122) by [PengyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/pseuds/PengyChan). 



> This fic is closely tied to @doodledrawsthings AU on Tumblr. Please follow her if you enjoy this. 
> 
> _“He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache.”_  
>  \- W. Shakespeare, Cymbeline.

Ever since he took that deal, he’d been regretting it.

Looking back now, he would take a million years in that stone tomb over what that giant salamander had subjected him to. He hadn’t expected on getting his power back, not really, but the least that jerk could do was give him a proper form. Hell, or at least keep him a triangle. But he’d never expected _this_. He’d been thrown into this form with no directions, no explanation except _“You must absolve your crime.”_

Yeah, great, what the hell did that even _mean_.

He hated it. He hated everything about this stupid body, about this weak pitiful meat sack that frilly asshole decided to shove him in. He had nothing, no power, no immortality, no means of escape. And if that wasn’t enough, he was slowly dying. He could even feel it. The slow, painful way each cell was loosing its energy. In just a few decades he would degrade, grow cold and end up feeding worms before he knew it, if this sack of flesh didn’t give up on him even sooner. After watching humans for so long, he’d seen just how easily they could die, hell he’d even been the cause of a lot of them. He’d found it funny, how easily they can break.

He didn’t now.

He hated this. He was Bill Cipher, bringer of nightmare, All-Seeing Eye, not some…some puny mortal who couldn’t tie his own shoelaces. Stuff like that was just annoying. There was no point in knowing what humans did with their shoes, so he hadn’t bothered looking. Now he could barely tie a knot, not until Shooting Star had shown him.

Mabel Pines was the easiest to deal with. Innocent and trusting, the kid was the easiest to get on his side. Was it manipulation? Sure. No surprise there. That didn’t mean he didn’t _like_ the kid, though the whole defeating him part did put a damper on things. Because that spray paint had _hurt_ , damn it.

Still, out of all the Pines, Shooting Star was the most agreeable one, no doubt about that. Neither Fez not Sixer would try anything, not with the kid involved. Security measure, in a way.

That’s what he told himself most times when the brat decided to insert herself into his day like some kind of annoying dandelion that suddenly sprang on the lawn. Not needed, and obnoxious to boot.

The chess game had been easy, and Bill had been pretty bored anyway. Making fun of one of the Pines and getting something out of it was almost too good of a deal to pass up, even if that something was just a lousy sweater. Still, the kid knew how to make him look good, even in yarn.

The chess thing…Whatever it was, continued, as did the numerous sweaters the kid somehow managed to conjure in record time. And, okay, Bill had to admit it was fun. Shooting Star was nowhere near the most impressive opponent he’d played against, but boy if she wasn’t _interesting_. The kid seemed to find the most ridiculous ways to lose, including chasing off his knight with her _king_ back to his side of the board. Of course, that had been pretty much suicide, but Star satisfied herself with a really stupid loss, and Bill wasn’t exactly complaining, not while her sweaters were so damn soft.

Huh, that was a weird thing to like. Must be a human thing.

…

“Watcha doing?”

Bill opened his eyes, but didn’t bother getting up when Mabel sat down next to him, letting her legs dangle from the edge of the roof. “Contemplating your pointless existence.”

“Rude.” The kid swung her legs a bit, before crawling over to sit next to him, the wood creaking under her weight. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m slowly dying.” He hadn’t meant that to come out as easily as it did. Mortality was making him lose his grip.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of a thing humans do, y’know?” Bill closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not with Shooting Star of all people. “Though we usually ignore it.”

“How?” No, stop. Ignoring what this body did to him would be almost the same as giving up. Which was ridiculous. He was going to find a way out, he knew it, he just needed to-

“Well, stop thinking about it, first of all.” The lighthearted tone meant that the kid was teasing him. Mabel Pines. Laughing at him. “You’re not going anywhere right now, so relax! It’s not like whining about it will help, ya big nerd.”

Bill didn’t respond, choosing to ignore the little girl and hopefully preserve any dignity he had left. Even if her laugh made him wanna throw her off the roof.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” No response. “Come on, is Silly Billy sulking again? I know what he needs: a sticker, that’s what!” With a small ‘boop’, Bill felt her stick something on his nose. He tore the sticker off, crumbing it and tossing it her way.

“Didn’t I tell you not to do that?”

Mabel grinned, looking pleased at finally getting a reaction out of the demon. “Do what?”

“You’re thirteen, but you act like a five year old.”

The girl’s grin fell, telling that the quip had met its mark. “You’re the one to talk.” She grumbled, poking him in the side, hard. The demon yelped, not expecting that, his body giving a spasm, forcing him to finally sit up and wrap his arms around his sides. Completely on impulse. Sometimes, human instincts were just really, really inconvenient.

Mabel blinked, looking from Bill to her hand and then back to Bill. Her face slowly stretched into a wide grin. “So you’re ticklish even out of my brother’s body.”

“Mabel Pines, I swear if you-No! No- _AHAHAHA_!” The kid pounced, digging her fingers into his sides, making the demon erupt with uncontrollable laughter. Aren’t people supposed to laugh at what goes their way? This was _torture_. The demon was hyper-aware of every sensation, of every finger that managed to dig in-between his ribs. His arms flailed around, trying to throw the kid off, but she was too damn persistent. In what felt like centuries Star finally relented, letting the demon push her away and laying down next to him, giggling as well. Bill collapsed into a boneless heap, trying to catch his breath. He was supposed to be angry, livid even, for letting any mortal touch him. Yet he couldn’t even fight off the grin that was left on his face. “I hate you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! I was just trying to make you feel better.”

“How the hell was that supposed t-” Bill frowned, cutting himself off. Despite the heat on his face and the way his body still heaved for oxygen, there was something different about it. It was like out of all the 630 newtons gravity had dumped on him, half of that was thrown off. He _did_ feel better, though that made no sense. “Hold on, how did you do that?”

Mabel shrugged. “I think it’s like, hormones and stuff? I don’t know, you’re the all-knowing demon. But it’s a human thing. Laughing just makes us feel better.”

Bill stared at her for a long time. Of course, laughing had made him feel better too, back when he was still all-powerful and all that jazz, but-

_Liar._

He winced, ignoring the voice.

“Hey, don’t get all nihilistic on me again! And I was being _such_ a good therapist.” The girl crossed her arms over her chest when she saw Bill’s questioning stare. “What, I know some complicated words! _Someone_ has to understand what my nerdy bro is saying.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Mabel bristled. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Bill grinned at her, folding his arms behind his head. “Oh, ya know…starting to wonder which one of you is the smart pines twin after all.”

Star didn’t respond, so Bill pushed on. “I mean, for all the brains you claim Pine Tree has, he was a heck of alot easier to swindle. Don’t get me wrong, you handed that rift to me on a silver platter,” a wince, “But I had to put on a whole other meat suit for ya to fall for it. Ol’ Dipping Sauce took the bait without me even bothering with all that. And! You still figured out a way to stop me. Hinder me. Whatever.” Couldn’t give her too much credit there, the third dimension was kinda out of his veil of expertise at the time. “From what it looks like, you’re the one with the brains around here.” Bill finished, looking up at the kid. She was staring back blankly at him “Uh, Shooting Star?”

Despite the fact that he knew he was laying it on thick, the demon had to admit, the kid was perceptive, sometimes even more than all the other Pines smashed together. That was what he should have watched out for.

“That’s what you said to Grunkle Ford as well, huh?”

Bill froze, before giving himself a mental kick in the head. He was playing it up too much. Of course…

Mabel smiled, the smile too sad to be her own. “You said all that nice stuff about him being ‘special’ and ‘smart’ and he believed you.” She got up. “And I thought- no that’s stupid. Dipper was right, I shouldn’t have bothered.” the girl turned to leave when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, clutching it a little too tightly.

“Don’t.” he hated how his own voice sounded, almost pleading, and it was stupid, because who said he really needed this kid? So his original plan to get her on his side crashed and burned, so what? She was just a stepping stone, a way for him to finally get out of this body, and then he wouldn’t need her anymore. Bill Cipher didn’t need anyone.

It’s just that being left alone on the roof all the sudden seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Mabel shook his hand off, but didn’t leave, turning back to him. Then she suddenly reached to wipe her face with her sleeve, and Bill’s chest constricted. It was like something inside of it was taken into a cold, vice grip, and he couldn’t shake it away. _What was that? Why can’t I-_

_You know exactly what it is._

The girl sniffed, finally letting her arm fall back by her side, her face a little redder than normal. “I don’t…I don’t want to be fake friends with you.” she looked away, her face scrunched up. “If you don’t want to be my friend that’s fine, just don’t- don’t _fake_ it.”

Bill scowled, and turned away from Star’s snot-covered face. It was really annoying, for some reason. Her leaking.

Mabel slowly came to sit next to him, tossing her legs over the edge and wiping off the stray wetness with her sleeve. “I wanna help you,” she said after a while, both of them staring straight ahead, at the last stray rays of the darkening sky. “But I don’t know if-”

“Why?”

The girl shrugged a bit to Bill’s question. “I’m Mabel Pines. It’s what I do.”

The demon grimaced, feeling angry at that statement. “It’s not gonna do ya any favors.”

Star shrugged again, letting her head fall on his shoulder. “That’s okay.”

He didn’t push her off.

…

 _“Just who does she think she is?!”_ Bill threw the scissors across the room, smashing them into the far wall and making a severely satisfying dent in the wood. Would probably get him in a big one with Fez later, but at the moment he was too livid to care. How dare she? _How dare she!?_ “I did everything she wanted and she- and-”  
__  
You did not.  
  
Bill scowled, his hands clenching at his sides. _Get lost._  
__  
You invoked me.  
__  
How many times do I have to tell you to leave?  
  
As many as you think will satisfy you.  
  
Bill’s eyes shot to the water tank in the corner. Small, pink creature met his gaze. He was almost tempted to pick up the scissors and throw them at the tank instead, but that would definitely not go well with Fez, and he wasn’t exactly eager to sleep outside tonight.  
  
_You are lying to yourself._  
  
Bill bristled. _What the hell do you know about-_  
  
_What do you think she wanted?_  
  
A better world! I made that happen!   
  
There was a light ticking sound. That bastard was laughing at him. _Not everyone shares your definition of “better”._

No. No no no. He was sure he’s made it-

_“Make it worth something.”_

He had. If she couldn’t see that, then that was her problem. They _ruined everything_ , and after all they did to her, she still-

_Liar._

“I don’t _CARE!_ ” Bill rezched up to pull viciously on his hair, but the sharp stab of pain did nothing to block out _that voice_. “You act like you know _everything_. Well, YOU DON’T KNOW A GODDAMN THING! _SHE_ DOESN’T KNOW A GODDAMN THING! And if you THINK you can TELL ME WHAT TO DO, WELL, you’re even MORE OF AN IDIOT THAN I THOUGHT. Now get the _FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD._ ”

There was no answer. Bill breathed heavily, surrounded by silence.

…

The kid had the scissors. She’d taken them long before Fordsy could even lay eyes on them, and that was probably for the better. He needed them. And by a stroke of luck, they were just within his reach.

Bill tripped over a ball of loose yarn, shaking off the string and cursing under his breath. The kid was fast asleep, curled up in her make-shift nest of stuffed animals whose soulless, button eyes were _definitely_  following him around. Probably cursed. Man, he had to get one of those someday.

There was no risk of waking up Star, the kid slept like a dead rock most of the time. The one he didn’t want to wake was Pine Tree, because no doubt the brat would go running to Sixer as soon as he saw Bill doing something “suspicious”. Not that this was the most inconspicuous thing he’d do, but one paranoid wreck he could deal with. Two was pushing the limit

Bill finally shook off the clingy pink thread around his ankles, kneeling next to Mabel’s supplies drawer to shuffle through its contents. Stickers, glitter glue, googly eyes all covered his hands, but no scissors were found. Where were the damn things?

Bill cast a look back at the ball of yarn he’d stepped in, and at the plastic bag next to it it had apparently rolled out of. He knelt and rummaged through the bag, careful with the crinkling plastic. Finally he’d found them, sticking out of another fluffy ball of yarn. It was just like the kid to use a reality-altering gadget as _actual scissors_. The demon freed them from their tangled prison, turning to leave the room. He cast one last look at Shooting Star, still sound asleep, breath whistling through her teeth. Then he left, not bothering to close the door behind him.

He didn’t notice as Mabel suddenly sat up, staring at the now empty hallway.

…

Liam closes the book he was reading, letting his eye fall shut. “Alright, that’s it. Now you have to go to bed.”

“Whaaat? But that one was short! Tell me another!”

“Billy…”

“I brought you candy! So you have to!” Bill scoots closer to him, staring into his brother’s eye eagerly, until Liam has not choice but to cave in, giving a small laugh.

“Alright, alright. A short one.”

The younger brother beams at him, eye crinkling. “Do the one about the pirates, I love that one.”

“I know, I’ve read it to you like ten times already.”

“Then make it the _eleventh_.”

Liam puts down the book he was holding, grabbing another one from the shelf before settling down into the pillow. Bill scoots next to him, burying them both under the blankets and leaning on the other’s side. The bigger triangle opens the cover, his palm hesitating on the first page. Why isn’t he reading?

“You can’t keep doing this, Billy.”

Bill freezes, shuddering. It was suddenly cold. No, not cold. It was really hot. There was something very, very wrong…

“What do you-”

“You’ve slept for so long. Maybe it’s time to wake up.”

No. No no- “No. No, don’t- I don’t want-” The boy’s tumbling phrases die in his throat as he looks up at the other, and his eye shrinks into a pinprick at the sight.

Liam’s shape is _crumbling_ , burning away like singed paper, the edges of the triangle darkening and curling inward.

And it was like Liam didn’t even notice. He just stared at him with that sad, regretful eye. Like he didn’t notice he was- “Wake up, Billy.”

“NO!” Bill made a grab for him, for whatever was left of his brother, but it was too late. There was nothing but ashes. “No, no, no, make it stop, please, I-”

_Wake up, Billy._

The bedsheets caught on fire, angry red flames dancing on the covers. It burned, it burned more than Bill ever thought it would. “Come back! _I didn’t mean to!_ ”

There was nothing but that unbearable heat, eating him inside out, turning his thoughts to dust, just like they did to-

Wake up!

Bill screamed.

…

And promptly fell on the floor.

The demon lay there for awhile, rubbing his now bruised side. He didn’t remember what that nightmare was about, except that it was gonna keep him awake for the rest of the night. Which means he slept a total of- Bill unburied his face from the blanket, casing a bleary look at the cuckoo clock mounted on the wall. Four hours. Not bad, but hardly enough for this stupid body to be satisfied with.

Sleep was one of the most annoying things this body had him dealing with. The absurd amount of time humans spent unconscious (eight to nine hours, seriously? Most other beings could live off of _four_ ) used to be extremely handy. After all, what was a dream demon without dreams to infiltrate? Every time someone fell asleep, it was practically an open invitation for him to sneak in and rummage through their brain without consequence.

And he hated being on the receiving end of it. It was like the universe itself was setting up some big joke. Bill Cipher in need of sleep. Ha ha, hilarious.

He loathed every time he got put under. Bill of all knew how vulnerable humans were when asleep. It was what got him the upper hand, but now, it was unnerving. He had no idea of what was going on around him, and that was the least of it. The nights when he didn’t dream of anything were probably the most bearable.

Because when he did, they were always nightmares.

Aaand there was the punchline. Bill Cipher, harebringer of nightmares was suddenly on the receiving end of them. Pure irony at its finest. He’d appreciate the humor more if he didn’t wake up screaming every night.

It’d been so long since he knew what nightmares were like, anyway, long before he’d-

The long forgotten screams echoed in his head, and Bill pushed them away, deep enough that he wouldn’t have to hear them anymore. He got up, his side still aching from the fall, tossing the flimsy blanket aside on the floor. There was no point in going back to sleep. He couldn’t even if he’d tried, and besides, who knew if that nightmare came back again? Bill would take the horrible weight of exhaustion over _that_ any day.

The demon stumbled into the kitchen, shuffling through the shelves in search of enough caffeine to make that unexplainable pressure on the back of his head go away for at least a few hours. He cracked open one of the top cabinets, and froze. _Huh. So that’s where Fez keeps all his poison. There sure is a lot of it._

It felt like he’d stood there forever, starting them, the dark glass glinting under the dim lighting. The flickering light of bright blue flame still danced behind his eyes.

Bill reached for the bottle.

…

_“Cipher? What the hell are ya- Oh jeez, what a mess. You know I’m charging ya for the booze, right?”_

…

The bottles were gone, and he was on the couch again, the blanket he’d kicked away tossed over him.

At least the splitting headache chased away the voices.

…

_“I wanna see him.”_

_The ancient one lifted his tale, revealing a small, grey triangle underneath. Bill Cipher looked more awake than he had all this time, not looking at the Axolotl, but rather somewhere beyond, into the dull void that stretched out for eternity. The boy’s eye was narrowed, hiding whatever emotion he didn’t want the other to see. Of course, the ancient one could still tell._

_“You- you said if I wake up, I’ll get to see him.” It was a question, despite not sounding like one, carrying something almost akin to_ hope. _“That I’ll find out where he is.”_

_“You will. In time.”_

_The boy finally looked at him, the single wide eye not muddled anymore by sleep. “So if I leave, then-”_

_“If you leave, you will gain a new form. Absolve your crime, and you shall see your brother again.”_

_Bill turned away, looking unsure. But he was ready. This was the first time that he ever talked about leaving this bubble without denial or anger, but as a possibility. But that possibility was all that was needed for the bubble to crack, and the illusion to shatter. If Cipher truly wanted to leave, that meant that the dream wasn’t enough anymore to satisfy him. That did not mean that his denial would end, but it was cracking, just like the bubble._

_“Ok.” The voice was small, but the weight it carried could not be compared to anything else found in the void. “Deal.”_

_…_

Bill Cipher _woke up_.


	2. Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doing some world building to set up the next few chapters. As usual have some Bill running around with the Pines twins.

Thirty years took a great toll on his memories, but Ford still remembered this place. Dimension 52 rested in the back of his mind, even as he fled from one universe to another, meeting hundreds of people, places, and searching frantically for a concrete way of stopping Bill. It was one of the few worlds he knew that truly meant him no harm, where his stay wasn’t stained with loss and terror and Bill’s chaos. Years of voyaging had left his memory of this place faded and washed out like a watercolor painting, and remembering little details grew harder and harder, but as Stanford set foot into the temple, it was like he hadn’t even left .

 

One wouldn’t call the temple of Jheselbraum the Unswerving  _ messy _ . It was cluttered, yes, jars and bottles of various herbs and alien substances on top of books and papers, something that closely resembled a simple chalkboard hidden behind a shelf, notes and equations written down on it in several different languages, the handwriting quick but precise. A stack of long unused books and scrolls were covered up with a tapestry of what looked like a pink, frilly amphibian. It was cramped and a bit overzealous, but in no way chaotic. There was a system, where everything had its place, and while Stanford could not even begin to understand what it was, the owner certainly could. Who was now standing in front of the already mentioned tapestry, regarding the two men. 

 

“Stanford!” the woman smiled in greeting, all seven of her eyes crinkling upwards. “I’m so glad you’ve made it.” she then turned to Stan, something almost teasing in her gaze. “And Stanley, you’re even wearing pants. I’m flattered.”

 

Stan scowled at the floor, and Ford didn’t miss the way his face reddened in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, try to embarrass me some more, would ya?”

 

…

 

Mabel walked through the door, only to trip on a huge encyclopedia and almost fall flat on her face. The girl caught herself in time on the doorframe, casting a puzzled look on the rest of the attic. Books and papers were scattered around the room, some mathematics textbooks and some atlases, as well as a whole collection of chewed up pens. Uh oh, nerd alert. 

 

“Broski? You there?” 

 

Dipper was sitting on the edge of his bed, devouting another poor writing utensil. He was holding one of the moleskine notebooks the Grunkles sent him for christmas, the ones with the mysterious vibe that unsurprisingly matched Grunkle Ford’s old journals. Around him was a nest of crumpled up, ink-stained papers. 

 

“No, no, that can’t be it...Maybe Vigenere…?”

 

Mabel rolled her eyes at her brother’s muttering, striding up to him and waving in front of his face. “Hellloooo? Earth to Dipperrr? Nerd-bro, come in!” 

 

Dipper pushed her hand out of the way, annoyed glare already forming on his face. “Mabel! Can’t you see I’m-” His voice died in his throat at his twin’s startled face, voice immediately softening. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just- Bill and his  _ stupid rotten tricks _ !” The teen threw the notebook on the floor, coming up to rub his face with both hands. “I’ve been at it for  _ hours _ and I still don’t know if it was a  _ joke _ or not.”

 

Mabel carefully picked up the notebook, turning it over to look at the crumpled pages. 

 

_ 16°-18°, < 24° _

 

“Did Bill give this to you?” 

 

Dipper briefly uncovered his face to stare accusingly at the numbers. “More like threw it over his shoulder. And I still don’t get it, is it some sort of code? I tried longitude and latitude, but that leads to nowhere.” The younger twin buried his face in his knees, letting out a frustrated noise. “Bill with his stupid riddles and tricks. It probably doesn’t even mean anything, and he’s just laughing at me chasing some pointless garbage.” 

 

“Hmm.” Mabel flipped the notebook upside down, then to the side, but no grand breakthrough seemed to hit her. “Well, you wanna know what I think?”

 

“That I should take a break?” 

 

“Wow, see, twin telepathy!” the girl grinned, closing the moleskine and putting it back on the table. “You know what we should do? Go to town and get some food, that’s what. We haven’t been to Greasy’s in like, forever! And you can’t live off an ink diet, Bro-bro, trust me, I’ve tried.” The girl tugged Dipper to his feet, the other twin  already smiling awkwardly. “And hey, who knows, maybe you’ll get some brilliant strike of genius afterwards!” 

 

“Yeah,” the boy looked away, then reached for Wendy’s hunter hat, the one that was hanging dejectedly on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

 

“I know I’m right! I’m right most of the time, after all.” Mabel grabbed him by the arm, the kids giggling as they rushed down the steps, Mabel skipping every other one and almost sending both of them crashing down. 

 

“Mabel, be careful!”

 

“Hey, it’s not like we-” Mabel froze, casting her eyes toward the gift shop, where a familiar nasally voice spouted its daily dose of rants and nihilism. Though it wasn’t that voice that got her attention, despite its desperate effort for it. No, it was the  _ other _ voice, the one it seemed to be arguing with. “Oh  _ no _ , not him.” 

 

Dipper frowned. “Is that Gideon?” 

 

“Right okay, we can still use the back door. Or climb out the window.” The teen proceeded to do just that, already half-way up the windowsill.

 

“Come on, Mabel! You know he’s at least trying! The least you could do is give him a concrete ‘no’.” Dipper, sounding uncharacteristically sympathetic, tugged on his sister’s leg. “And the door’s right there.” 

 

She froze, staring at the far side of the room, where, indeed, was the location of the front door. “Whatever, it’s more dramatic if I-”

 

“Mabel.”

 

“He kept sending me those creepy letters back home! You don’t understand, he perfumed all of them!” 

 

“Mabel.”

 

“And, I mean, I love chocolate, but I’m pretty sure those had some serious love potion magic in them, they were even sparkly-”

 

“ _ Mabel. _ ”

 

“OKAY, FINE!” Mabel yelled loud enough for the whole Shack to hear, the walls echoing a little at her outburst. The twins froze, an awkward silence falling on them both. Suddenly, the voice that Mabel had dreaded so much to hear burst through the hallway. “ _ Mabel, my sweet, is that you? _ ”

 

The girl sighed, her voice a lot softer than before. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him. Happy?” 

 

_ “Sugar Pie, is that you? I was just telling this bumbling little fool that-” _

 

_ “You sure you wanna use that insult specifically, shortstack?” _

 

_ “That-” _

 

Mabel burst through the door, trying to look as haughty as possible. Dipper followed closely behind, awkwardly casting his eyes on the scene. Gideon was busy having a death stare with Bill, the latter having a definite advantage in height while the former looked a lot more alive on his feet. Wendy leaned over the cash register, looking bored as she watched the two bicker at each other, chewing what looked like a total of 5 slices of gum. There was no one in the giftshop, which wasn’t unusual being this close to closing hour. What else wasn’t unusual was the look of utter adoration that boomed on Gideon’s face the moment his eyes caught Mabel’s. “Mabel my Sweet! It’s so nice to see you. You know, your Grunkle Stanley is so generous to allow even cretins like these,” the cast a thumb at Bill, who looked more and more livid by the second, “To work here! Must be a Pines thing, such kind, kind people, yes…”

 

“Laying it on a bit thick there, huh,  _ pal? _ ” 

 

“Silence, peasant!” Gideon snapped, “I will not be insulted by someone with an employee name tag!” 

 

“Are you sure I can’t drop-kick him?” the demon mock-whispered to Wendy, who shrugged apathetically. 

 

“If you wanna face those goonies he’s got by the door then go for it, dude.” 

 

Said goonies were leaning on both sides of the door frame, both looking like they could lift up a whole truck, both bored as hell. 

 

Dipper shuffled awkwardly to stand next to Wendy, while Mabel came up to Gideon, her face set in an accepting frown. “Hi, Gideon.” The ten-year-old smiled, reaching for a hug. The girl skillfully avoided it, reaching out instead to shake his hand. She grimaced at how sweaty it was, wiping it off behind her back. “Uh, can you maybe call off your, uh, friends?” 

 

Gideon nodded eagerly, seeming dazed. “Of course, of course.” He snapped his fingers, and the three tattooed bulky dudes disappeared out the door, the friendly ding following suit. 

 

Bill seemed to look a lot more eager. “Great, now can I drop-kick him?”

 

“No, Bill,” Mabel took a deep breath, backing away slightly at Gideon’s invasive stance. “No, you can’t.”

 

The lanky man raised an eyebrow. “Really, because it looks like I’d be doing ya a fav-”

 

“ _ Bill Cipher?? _ ”

 

Mabel didn’t think there were enough question marks and exclamation points to properly convey the fortune-teller’s surprise. Completely forgetting any plan of wooing her, the boy’s beady little eyes fixing themselves on the man in question. A small grin spread across his face, and Bill’s eyes narrowed, as if daring him to say something. And say something he did. “Oh, my stars! If it isn’t Bill Cipher himself! Though I admit, you are looking a bit different these days. Though I feel like you’re lacking something. Say, a  _ sailor suit _ ?”

 

“Still mad about that one, huh, kid?”

Wendy snorted through her gum, seemingly at the mental image of Bill in a sailor suit. “Welp, time to close. I’m going home. You guys take care of these two disasters.” The red-head locked up the cash register and left, shooting the twins a parting wave as she did. It was kind of startling, how easily the 16-year-old accepted that the guy that turned all of her family into stone last year was now hanging around the Shack, but Mabel supposed she was dealing in her own way. Cool on the outside, maybe having a mental crisis on the inside. If anything, she could relate. Wendy had accepted Bill the same way you accept getting gum stuck in your hair: irritating and uncomfortable, but hard to get out. 

 

Now that the teen had left, Gideon seemed to have gathered more courage. He turned to Mabel once again, clearing his throat and straightening his tie. “Now, I know you’ve only just recently arrived in town, but I was wondering if you could-” 

 

“Uh, actually,” Mabel looked away, shifting from side to side, “Me and Dipper already had something planned. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

 

“Oh, that’s-” The plastered smile on the boy’s face twitched, like it was hard for him to keep it on, “ _ Wonderful _ . Tell me all about it when you get back, okay?”

 

The girl sighed his overly-hopeful tone, not being able to stay cold after hearing it. “Sure, okay.”

 

Gideon kept smiling at her, seeming to expect something. Dipper cleared his throat, saving her from another awkward moment. “Uh, you kinda have to leave, man. We’re closed.” 

 

“Oh right! Of course, of course.” the boy’s overly-gelled head turned to Bill, who’s been smugly quiet the whole time. “Doesn’t  _ he _ have to leave as well?”

 

“He’s living with us, actually. Long story.”

 

“I...see…” Gideon’s eye twitched at that news. Still, a forceful smile stretched on his face, and he clasped Mabel’s hand in his own. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, my queen.” 

 

“Uh, thanks, Gideon, you...really don’t have to.” Mabel retrieved her hand, quickly hiding it in her sleeve.

 

“But I want to.” He beamed at her proudly. Behind him, Bill put his hands around his neck in an over-the-top choking gesture, making the girl snort quietly through her nose. 

 

“Bye, Gideon.”

 

“Bye, bye, Sugar Plum!” Gideon retreated, waving at Mabel as he swung open the door, the two goons he had outside picking him up and hosting him on their shoulders. The door swung closed with a loud squeak, and the twins let out a shared breath of relief. 

“Man,” Dipper shook his head, “And I thought he’d be, y’know, better after the whole redemption biz. I think he just got more creepy.”

 

Mabel nodded, wincing as Gideon waved at her from the window. “After all that, I think I prefer ‘Shooting Star’.” 

 

She blinked as Bill made a strange noise from behind, almost forgetting that he was still there in the first place. It was weird, how easily she got used to his overwhelming presence. Like someone placed a pack of dynamite in the corner and everyone just accepted it. “Hey, Bill?”

 

“What.” The demon scowled, already retreating into the house. 

 

“Do you wanna, you know, come with us? To Greasy’s?” 

 

Bill stared. Dipper stared. And Mabel quickly wondered what on earth possessed her to say that. “On second thought-”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Definitely not.” Dipper piped in, looking like he’d just dodged a bullet. 

 

“Wow, I wonder what part of ‘getting along with the guys whose town I completely trashed last time’ is a good idea.” Bill continued, looking annoyed and tired, “Sorry, kid, getting lynched by an enraged mob isn’t something I’m looking forward to in this lifetime.” 

 

“Well, now you’re just overreacting.”

 

“Yes.” The demon deadpanned, leaving the shop with an air of finality. 

 

“I don’t get it.” Mabel frowned, “He was fine with the shopping trip.”

 

Dipper shrugged, “There aren’t many people there that we specifically know, Mabel.” the boy tugged on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get food.” 

 

...

 

Getting food was the easy part. Lazy Susan greeted them with open arms, insisting that the meal was on the house. “Now that you two sweethearts are back, it’s only fair if I treat ya to something.” The woman left, spilling coffee everywhere as she did, and if there was one thing Dipper could think of that came out good from Weirdmaggedon, it was the reputation their family got because of it. Gee thanks, Bill.

 

Mabel was in the process of shoveling as many pancakes in her mouth as it was physically possible, finishing it off with strawberries and syrup. “I could get used to this.” She mouthed over her food, grabbing the glass of milk.

 

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, picking at his bacon dejectedly. He wondered if he should have gotten coffee instead, possible addictive consequences be damned. He saw Grunkle Ford drinking it in gallons a day, and the guy was like, 60. It should’ve been fine. He was going to highschool in September anyway, and from what he’s heard from Wendy, coffee is the only thing overworked students survive off. 

 

“Hehy, Bro-bro, waht’s wronhg?” Mabel wolfed the rest of her pancakes down, before asking, “It’s not that stupid code again, is it?”

 

“Ugh, Mabel!” Dipper pushed away his plate, leaning on his elbows. “I thought this would help me with it, but I’m just more confused! I can’t stop thinking about it!” 

 

“Sorry,” he added, when he saw Mabel wince at his tone, “I shouldn’t have-”

 

“Nah, it’s okay. Bill’s still a jerk.” Mabel grinned at him. 

 

“The biggest jerk.” Dipper piped up. 

 

“In the whole universe!”

 

“Multiverse.” he corrected. 

 

“Wow, way to make a guy feel special.” 

 

Dipper jumped in his seat. Bill was suddenly appeared out of nowhere, leaning over their table, hands folded smugly under his chin. How hadn’t he noticed the demons sooner? It was irritating, how easily he still spooked them despite being just as flesh and blood as everyone else. Talk about speak of the devil. 

 

"Yikes, what's with the sour look, kid?" Bill grinned, shuffling into the seat next to them. "Ya look like a Meeseeks that's been alive for a day too long."

 

“A what-now?”

 

“Oh right, your dimension hasn’t reached the torture-induced-slavery-is-totally-okay level yet.” Bill shrugged, grabbing a strawberry from Mabel’s plate and popping it in his mouth. “Fun fact, human rights  _ aren’t _ necessarily better the more advanced the civilization gets. Makes you think, huh?”

 

“What are you doing here, Bill?” Dipper scowled, raising his head to glare pointedly at the demon. “Weren’t you, like, scared someone would recognize you?”

 

“I remembered that the people here are as dumb as a log.” Bill frowned. “And I wasn’t scared. You don’t get a plan of wrecking the whole multiverse in order by being an idiot, is all I’m saying.”

 

“And then have it be wrecked in turn by two twelve-year-olds?” Dipper, bit back, feeling smug as Bill sputtered in his seat. 

 

“You guys, look!” Mabel nearly leaped onto the table, pointing at something behind them. Before Dipper had a chance to wonder if there was something there of if she just wanted to end their bickering he froze. 

 

There was indeed something. Really weird. 

 

“Okay, so some guys just like to wear big cloaks. And look suspiciously like that Blind Eye cult. Maybe they’re cosplaying.”

 

“Cosplaying.” Bill echoed. “Kid, half of the people living in this dump don’t even know how to turn on a computer.” The demon’s eyes were narrowed, cautiously following the two cloaked figures that disappeared on the other side of the diner. “I know the irony of this is gonna set ya off, kid, but I don’t trust them.”

 

“You didn’t trust the speck of dust that was on your sandwich last week.” Mabel pointed out, finishing off the last of her meal. Still, her gaze was trained on the two guys in costume, not leaving them for a second even as she drank her milk. 

“You humans die out of every little thing, you know that, right?” Bill sounded defensive. “How’s I supposed to know that wasn’t some kind of poisonous spore that would kill me?” 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be all knowing?” Dipper but back with a grin.

 

“Yeah, like I’d waste a minute of my unlimited lifespan looking at something as dumb as  _ moss _ .” 

 

“Guys, they’re leaving!” The two shady dudes got up from the booth, grabbing a to-go bag and exiting the diner, the door swinging back with an unwittingly cheery  _ ding _ . 

 

The three shared a glance. “Do we follow them?” Mabel breathed, jumping in her seat with anticipation. 

 

The boy frowned, feeling hesitant despite the nostalgic excitement that was pooling in his stomach. Do they? On one hand, having a new mystery would not only be a refreshing start on their summer, but would distract him from the irritating headache that was that stupid code. On the other hand, there was  _ Bill _ . 

 

Bill, who met Dipper’s indecision with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “Yikes, what happened to Mr.’selling your soul for a dead laptop’?” 

 

“I-” 

 

“Cool, let’s go!” Already making up her mind Mabel dashed after the two figures, leaving Dipper gawking at her from the booth, Bill shrugging and slowly following behind. 

 

“Hey, wait!”

 

…

 

“ _ Do not touch that _ .” Stan retraced his hand, hiding it behind his back at that icy tone. Something told him he shouldn’t mess with her. That lady could be terrifying when needed to be, the freaky seven-eyed stare following him even as he backed away from whatever doohickey the chick was so sensitive about. 

 

“Right, no touching, got it.”

 

Ford sighed, shooting his brother a warning look before he followed the woman deeper into the temple. Stan narrowly avoided a precariously piled book tower, shooting a quick glance at the rows upon rows of empty vials stacked neatly on several tall shelves. The salesman in him wondered how much all this sci-fi fantasy crap would be worth online, while the Mr.Mystery asked how much of this stuff he could sneak into the Mystery Shack without any issue. That weird, glowing blue, paperweight-like rock looked promising. Problem was, the last time he stole from a witch didn’t go that well, and Stan had a feeling that this one could do much worse than take his hands. Better safe than sorry. 

 

So the man said goodbye to the radioactive rock, rushing to catch up to his overly enthusiastic brother. 

 

They passed more of that voodoo-type shit on the way to wherever the hell that chick was taking them, stuff that handwitch could only dream on nicking, and Stan briefly wondered how his know-it-all brother even came across this lady. Okay, so Ford was automatically attracted to all things weird, but this? 

 

Then they entered another, more spacious chamber, and Stan dropped his jaw somewhere along the way.

 

In a bizarre sort of nostalgia, it reminded him of the portal in the basement, or at least the first time he’d ever laid eyes on it. It was like his brother’s nerdy tendencies were all amped by a thousand, handed a couple of tons of scrap metal and tools and left with nothing to do for a few hundred hours. Every possible free space, every nook and cranny, every corner was filled to the brim with gadgets and gizmos. An unfinished robot arm was draped across a half-dismantled satellite. 

 

“Wow.” Stan whistled appreciatively, and felt the Oracle's gaze as she eyed him (ha ha) from the side. “I mean, not that I'm surprised or anythin’, but...wow. No wonder my bro gushed about you so much. This is like his dream come true.”

 

Stanford coughed awkwardly into his fist, shooting his twin a pointed look that said  _ not now.  _

 

The purple alien paid them no mind, kneeling down to shift through the rows upon rows of what Stan could only label as sci-fi stuff, eyes trained vacantly at the objects in her hand, but Stan could see the corner of her mouth turn up in a slight smile. Finally she stood, all seven feet of her, a small, shiny gizmo clenched gently in one hand. It vaguely resembled a clock, gold-colored dials glinting between the creature's fingers. She handed it to Ford, who cradled it in his palms. Closer, Stan could see the strange carvings etched on the metal, a language that didn't even seem coherent, nevermind human. Ford gawked at the clock thing some more, before shooting his attention to the purple lady. “Is this-?” 

 

“Oh yes, though maybe not in the form you're accustomed to.”

 

“Yeah, great, anybody wanna fill me in here? Cause so far all I can see is a pretty good buck on eBay.”

 

Jheselbraum’s eyes crinkled, a hint of a smile. “This is a crestomometer. Normally designed to handle small time paradoxes, I've repurposed it to handle other anomalies as well. It should not only measure the damage the Nightmare Realm may have caused to your dimension, but hold the seams of reality together quite longer, at least until we've figured out a more permanent solution.”

 

Stan eyed the thermometer thingy again, squinting at it in scrutiny. “So is this like some kind of super glue to hold that hole together? Cause that's what I'm getting out on it.”

 

“More like scotch tape, but yes, that's the idea.” The Oracle explained, erasing Ford's look of frustration. “The device would have to be recharged every few days or so, but since the damage hasn't spread further, I think will hold for quite a while.”

“And...what? This saucer shaped thingy is supposd’ta  stop reality from screwing? Call me crazy but that sounds stupid.”

 

Ford shot a harsh look in Stanley’s direction, still gently calling the trinket. “I'm sure it will work.” Stan couldn't tell if he said it for himself or the Oracle next to him. 

 

Said oracle didn't look very impressed, passively watching the two brothers bicker. “It would be wise to install it soon. I'm sure nobody wants that gap to grow any bigger.”

 

The two nodded.

 

…

 

“What are they doing here?”

 

“Shhh.”

 

“Ooh, maybe they’re a cult!”

 

“Like those Swollen Eyeballs?”

 

“...What?”

 

“Oops, haha, nevermind. You humans have way too many eye-related fanatics. Way to make a guy feel special, y’know?”

 

“I’m not saying anything.”

 

“You just did.”

“Mabel! Shh!”

 

The two hooded figures rounded the corner, disappearing in the dumpster alley between the post office and the barber shop. Dipper peeked at them from behind the wall, finding the two mysterious persons deep in a conversation. They talked in a low whisper, impossible for him to hear, and their hoods were on too low to see any of their faces. Despite not knowing what they were talking about, it struck the twin as odd, pretty shady even. Then again, not many people walked around in full satanic worshipper gear. So yeah, Dipper didn’t trust them, not one bit. On the bright side, at least they weren’t the feds. He’s pretty sure the last time they saw those, Grunkle Ford had wiped their memories clean MIB style. They probably wouldn’t be too happy if they ever found out. 

 

Mabel kneeled next to Dipper in order to see some of the action. Bill just stood by, leaning against the brick wall. Maybe he didn’t care to see who those guys were. Maybe he was pretending he still could, without the need to actually turn his head and look. Either way, he suddenly looked bored, looking ready to leave, but for some reason hesitant to leave the twins alone. 

 

Dipper turned back to the pair of shady weirdoes, leaning over his sister to get a better look. They weren’t wearing anything remarkable except the cloaks themselves, and a thin sash wrapped around each of their waists. It had some embroidery on it, now that he realized it, something that looked like writing, though definitely not English. Arabic? Cyrillic? The letters were defined yet flowing, something mimicking cursive without actually being cursive. 

 

The hand gripping the bricks slipped.  

 

Dipper tumbled down onto his sister, not having realized how dangerously far he’d leaned until it was too late. The two twins fell on the concrete with a bang, Mabel groaning in pain underneath him. The two figures turned toward them, and for a second Dipper wondered if they were like the bad guys in any action movie: ready to shoot down a witness to something they didn’t want getting out. He wondered if they had some crazy magic stuff going on, or if they’d just pull out a gun and get it done quick. They did none of that.

 

Instead they turned tail and ran, disappearing deeper into the alley, the robes dragging after them as they did. The twins breathed a shared sigh of relief.

 

Behind them, Dipper heard a slow clap. “Wow, way to go. A-grade sleuthing. Real Sherlock Holmes-like. The mystery twins. I don’t think I can run out of sarcastic remarks for that.”

 

“You could help us up.” Mabel growled underneath him. 

 

“Nah.”

 

The boy slowly got up, stretching a hand to help his sister. “Who do you think those guys were?” 

 

“Mass murderers. The kind that use your blood for sacrifices and carve all your insides out before burning your body to appease the gods.”

 

“...”

 

“Kidding! Or am I?” 

 

Dipper dusted himself off, watching Mabel do the same, and cast a last look at the now empty alley. “We should tell Grunkle Ford.” 

…

 

The track back to the Shack was long and exhausting. The heat of June weighed on the twins’ backs, making their movements sluggish and lazy. Bill trodded behind them, acting like he didn’t mind the weather, but Mabel could already tell he was just as uncomfortable, the way his mouth was forced in a tight line, sweat beading just above his eyebrows. 

 

It was late-afternoon when they finally reached the Mystery Shack, the sun just peaking over the shingled rooftop, casting the attraction in a fiery glow. The house cast a long shadow over the driveway, bathing them in merciful cool. Mabel squinted at the front porch, seeing her two Grunkles sitting on the couch, deep in some kind of debate. The silhouette of the third visitor was just visible behind Grunkle Stan’s large frame, hands folded on her lap. The girl heard Bill draw a sharp breath behind her. 

 

“Nora?” Dipper called out, running to meet the three. 

 

Mabel spared a glance Cipher, who looked more and more uncomfortable by the minute. His face did a pretty good job of not letting it slip, but the way the demon dug his nails into his shirt made it clear he didn’t want to be here. 

 

She wondered about that for a moment before shrugging it off, turning to follow her twin across the gravelly driveway. Nora smiled when she saw the two approach, but there was something going on. Ford looked somber, even more so than he usually was, and Stanley was too grumpy for it to be any good. Honestly, it looked like the two old men were trying to hide something. 

 

“What’s going on?” Dipper asked, shooting a look to Grunkle Ford, hoping to glimpse at least something in his gaze. But the man’s face remained blank. 

 

“Everything’s fine, unlike you two. Jeez, you kids take a tumble down a garbage dump?” Grunkle Stan hurriedly changed the subject, ruffling Dipper’s hair affectionately.

 

“Grunkle Stan-”

 

“Seriously, you guys have been acting really weird for a while.” mabel piped up, folding her arms and glaring at her uncles as effectively as she could. “What’re you hiding?”

 

“Probably that giant hole in reality.”

 

Any other time, Mabel would have taken this as another of Bill’s nonsense remarks. But the way the two old men suddenly tensed spoke volumes. Nora looked like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, looking to the side with an annoyed frown. 

 

Stanford looked like he was struck by lightning, his eyes impossibly wide. “How did you-”

 

“Well, first off, I’m not blind, despite how much I feel like it.” Bill bit back, a grin on his face, seemingly enjoying the other man’s distress. 

 

“What were you even doing there?” 

 

Bill shrugged, inspecting his nails. “Looking for my hat. Obviously.” 

 

“Obviously.” Stan deadpanned, already looking like he’s accepted everything. “Ya got some kinda need for that stupid thing or what?”

 

The demon bristled, hands clenching at his sides, when Nora suddenly got up, silencing all three of them. “Is this really necessary? Because I’d prefer to avoid the drama.”

 

Bill took a step back, while Grunkle Ford looked no less calm than before. “I- what if he-?”

 

“What if I what? What’d ya think I’ll do? Get back my powers? Fat chance that’s happening.” Bill bit back, fists still clenched by his sides. The oracle sighed, moving away from the scene and coming to stand next to Mabel, the annoyed look growing more pronounced. 

 

“You wanted to destroy the world, and now suddenly that plan’s all done and forgotten? Please,” Ford got up, looming over the demon, who looked no more willing to back down. “I know better than to fall for that-”

 

Cipher burst out laughing, catching the scientist off-guard. “ _ Destroy the world _ , why in the  _ seven hells  _ would I wanna do that??”

 

“But- you-”

 

“I  _ LIVE HERE _ , GENIUS!”

 

Ford grew silent, eyes wide. Mabel turned to the oracle, only to find her gone, not a trace of her left. Grunkle Stan noticed the same thing, coming up to pull the two men away from each other before they could do something stupid. “Right, okay, shut up. Both of ya. The lady already left, and honestly, right now I kinda wish I could do that whole vanishing trick too.” 

 

Bill shook himself, snapping out of whatever funk he was in, Stanford breathing heavily next to him, but no longer looking like he’d kill him.

 

That’s when Dipper finally spoke, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Grunkle Ford, what are you talking about?” 

 

Grunkle Ford sighed, looking away briefly before coming to meet the boy’s gaze. “I have something to show both of you.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this took a while, but I do hope you've enjoyed that. Next chapter: we're going to Vegas! because it's Gravity Falls, and because why not. Grunkle Stan needs some downtime.


	3. Vegas Lights

“Please tell me that’s not it.” Dipper knelt down in the grass.

“I’m afraid it is.”

“I doesn’t look too bad.” Mabel said, turning her head with a forced smile on her lips.

“It looks horrible.”

“It’ll be okay.”

Stanford laughed at the twins’ bickering, but the laugh was clearly forced. Over the brief period he and his brother visited Dimension 52 the hole grew even more, now taking on a shifting mess of color, glowing an intimidating red that bathed the rest of the tree in an almost demonic hue. Golden thread wove through both sides of the crevice, the physical representation of the effects of the chronometer. It bore close resemblance to a gaping, bleeding wound, held closed by half-attempted stitches. A leftover memory of Bill Cipher’s terror, not that different from what Ford remembered of the Nightmare Realm. It felt wrong just being there.

The Oracle showed up regularly, if it was just to check up on the rift or on the Pines Ford wasn’t sure, but the being soon became an almost normal presence in the household. The visits of his old friend reassured as much as they troubled the scientist. If anything, he should be glad she had agreed to help, but the frequently worried look on her face made Stanford extremely unnerved. If a being with knowledge of the future wore that look, then certainly things weren’t at all good.

If that wasn’t concerning enough, the way Cipher turned tail and left every time Jheselbraum came around certainly was. Ford would almost feel sorry for him if it wasn’t for, well, everything.

Stan, while quite suspicious at first (‘no, she hadn’t tried to possess me. Do you really think I’d fall for that trick again?’) Had quickly warmed up to the oracle. After trying (and failing) to sell some of his junk to her, the conman had somehow decided she was the next best thing since sliced bread.

…

“I’m rich! Finally!”

It was a cool, misty Sunday morning when Stan suddenly burst through the back door, the poor thing squeaking on its hinges, and tossed a packed-looking duffel bag onto the kitchen table. The other members of the Pines family, who just a few seconds ago were eating breakfast, all stared at the new item in bemusement.

“Uh, Grunkle Stan, what’s with the suitcase?” Dipper finally asked, poking the thing lightly with a finger.

“Ooh, are you going on vacation?” Mabel stood on her chair to get a better look.

“We were on a vacation for nine months.” Stanford pointed out, hardly taking his eyes off of the paperback he was reading.

“Oh yeah, but would you really call battling sea monsters every day a real vacation?” Dipper frowned.

“It is for this family.”

“Okay, no, I’m not going on a vacation, though right now that sounds really tempting.” Stan butted in, reaching over Dipper’s shoulder to unzip the duffel bag. Inside was green, and not the kind you find on trees either.

“Wow.” Mabel whistled appreciatively, looking at the bag full of hundred dollar bills in a newfound light.

“Who’d you rob?” Her brother frowned, peering at the cash with a much more wary look.

“Nobody! Nobody that actually needed it, at least.” the old man shrugged.

Ford finally put down the book, eyeing the money. “This isn’t from that pug trafficking incident you told me about, is it?”

“Hey how’d ya guess?”

“Pug trafficking?” Mabel now looked a lot less awed.

“Hey, don’t worry, Sweetie! I promise no dogs were harmed. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout…” Ford muttered, once again picking up his book.

“So anyway, I’m rich. Who knows what I’m going to do with it?”

“Buy a really expensive perfume?”

 

“Build a new room for Soos.”

“OOH! Buy a trained tiger!”

“Great pitches kids, but nah.” Stan grabbed one of the handles, pulling the money closer. “There’s one place I’ve been dying to go to. Hadn’t been there since my marriage.”

“You got marri-”

“Anyway, waddaya say, Sixer? Ready for some nightlife? Babes? Action?”

Stanford slowly put the book down, and met his twin’s gaze with his own, steely one. “The universe is falling apart at the seams. Our enemy is living under our roof. And you want to drag me to- to- that-”

“Wow, way to ruin the fun. After thirty years in sci-fi land I’d expected ya to lighten up already.”

“You’re sixty, Stan, not exactly ideal age to go gambling, and we don’t have time for this.” The scientist stood up, tucking his paperback under his arm. “I’m going downstairs to figure out how to save the world. Again. You can do whatever you want.” And just like that, he left, leaving his three family members staring at each other in silence.

“Okay, I coulda handled that better.”

“Uh, Grunkle Stan? Why exactly did you want to take Grunkle Ford to Vegas?” Dipper asked.

“Okay, so, I may or may not owe a giant sum of money to someone-”

“Of course.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“And gun-slinging backup doesn’t hurt...Also fun.”

“I don’t think he’s the type, Grunkle Stan.” Mabel stated sadly.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Bill is.” Dipper mused.

“Wow, okay, no. Could ya imagine having that monstrosity on a road trip? Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about it.”

The girl snorted. “Yeah, I think I can.”

“Speaking of which, where is the little creeper gone?”

“Uh…” The twins shared a look. Mabel shrugged helplessly. “We should probably find him before he burns down the forest or something.”

“Good point.” And with that the two disappeared, leaving Stan alone with an unfinished piece of toast and a bag full of illegal cash.

“Huh. Is that something I should be concerned about?”

Stanley whirled around, bag suddenly clutched to his chest. “Jesus Christ, lady, give an old man a warning!”

Jheselbraum (he got it right, right?) raised an eyebrow, folding her arms and leaning casually on the edge of the table. “Strange, I do not think that man knew his name was going to turn into something explicit. But I suppose it happens.”

“I- what?”

“Nevermind.” The oracle turned her attention to the bag. “And I’m guessing that was 100% legally acquired?” She couldn’t quite hide the amusement in her voice.

“Oh yes. Absolutely.” Stan gave her a sarcastic grin. That grin slipped away quickly, however, as the cogs in his brain began to turn, suddenly giving him an idea as he eyed the woman in front of him. “Say, what’s yer opinion on road trips?”

…

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” The alien in the shotgun seat shifted uncomfortably, struggling her best to say annoyed. Stan brought the car into the left lane, quickly passing a truck on the side.

“Really? Ya didn’t exactly seem that reluctant goin’.”

“I- We should be working on closing the rift, not, not galavanting on some weekend quest to pay off a guy you stole from.”

“Hey, who said anything about stealing? I was borrowin’.”

“And i suppose the death threats that he leaves in your voice mail are friendly banter?”

“Aw, you’re being sarcastic. And here I thought you were a stick in the mud.”

“...” Nora sat back in her seat, tossing one leg over the other, and stared out the window. Bits of Oregon wildlife flew past them, forrest green melting into a choppy blir as the car flew by at a grand total of 50 miles an hour. The Stanleymobile really needed to upgrade.

It didn’t take long for Stanley to admit the real reason he was reluctant to go alone. Apparently he was completely willing to blow all of his money by himself. No, what got him concerned about bringing Stanford was not company as much as muscle. Owing a lot of money to a crime boss apparently did that to you.

“And what exactly do you want me to do?” She frowned. “Sit there and look pretty?”

“We-ell.” Stan paused, scratching his cheek with one hand, the other resting on the steering wheel. “You can see the future, right?”

“It’s not that simple.” She frowned. “Also sorry for not seeming that excited, but if you were planning to use that to win some easy money, you’re out of luck. My vision doesn’t work that way.”

“And what’s ‘that way’?”

“Complicated.”

“Fine.”

There was silence. Nora didn't really know why she was so antagonistic toward Stanley. So far, the human hadn’t done anything that would deserve it, if the whole using-her-for-gambling thing didn’t count. But there was something in the back of her mind, an itch that was scratching at her, telling her that the man next to her was not what he seemed.

That was truly ridiculous. She looked into his and his brother’s timeline many times. She knew him, just like the rest of the Pines, like the back of her hand. And yet-

Maybe she just wasn’t used to the company. Back in her own dimension, the Oracle had many people with whom she’d conversed. Many came to the mountain to seek her guidance, and the company was always welcome. But there was always some barrier, a wall between her and the other that prevented her from truly- what? Connecting? She was always there to get wisdom and assistance. It was a long time before she could just speak to someone, without needing to be that.

It felt refreshing, but also slightly off-kilter.

“Y’know, that’s not the only reason I wanted to bring Sixer.” Stan’s voice made the woman turn back to him, her thoughts pushed back into a jumbled mess for the time being.

“Oh?”

“He just- hasn’t been sleeping for a while, y’know? And I thought- ‘hey, great idea. Let’s get him to ignore the second end of the world for a while’. Didn’t exactly work, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Nora sighed through her nose. “Your brother isn’t like that. You know it.”

“Yeah...yeah.”

“He’s very determined. Very passionate. That isn’t a bad thing.” The woman brought her hands up to fiddle with her pendant, lost in thought. “But it can easily get out of hand.”

“Yeah, I get what ya mean.” Stan frowned, staring straight at the road ahead. “You know, he called me too old to go gambling.”

The woman paused for a moment. “I am one trillion years old, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Huh...wow. Uh...you look younger than your years?”

“Thanks.”

“Though maybe if you stop dressing like it’s the war time…”

The oracle frowned, wrinkling out her skirt. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

“Nothing! Way better than wearing a wizard robe, anyway. Just looks like you came straight from the 1940s, is all.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh hey, by the way, it’s Nora, right?”

“...yes.”

“Huh.” Stan snorted. “Knew a gal named Nora once. Real pain in my ass. You’ve got a lot in common.

Nora rolled her eyes. “Keep driving.”

“Sure thing.”

…

The first thing to assault her eyes were the lights. Hundreds of them, bright neon and colorful, hanging on buildings, advertising food, hotels, casinos. People stood on the sidewalks and threw pamphlets at tourists and passersbys, cards containing contact info of strippers and nightclubs, people yelling, cars honking aggressively, music blaring from hidden speakers, fountain jets raining down, illuminated by multicolor lights. There was so much, too much, it was overwhelming- Nora couldn’t look away. That man on the street- wife walked out on him, having a midlife crisis, taking it out on the girl next to him. The girl- adulterer, before she was even eighteen, raised in the middle of nowhere, wanted a life. What she got was angry drunkards and little pay. The woman on the street, tugging her child after her- married, on vacation, is about to meet her oldest daughter after a year apart. Every person, every place and every conversation had something to offer her, a troubled past, and hopeful or depressing future...She was used to this, used to the rapid fire of her predictions, fates intertwining, alternating, branching out into infinite different scenarios. But there was just so much...

“So, uh, what’d ya think? Worth the trip?”

Nora jumped, whipping around to look at Stanley hero, brother, savior, liar- “Uhh, it’s...something?”

“Come on! City of chance, of risk and it’s ‘something’?”

“It’s just...it’s a lot.”

…

After hustling into the hotel, via underground parking, Stan elbowed his way through the long, carpeted corridors of the hotel lobby, his companion trailing a few paces behind him, looking around at the crowd with wide eyes. The receptionist at the desk eyed both of them with a bored expression. Checking in was the easy part. Trying not to get jumped by a crime boss was another. Stan eyed his phone as he led Nora to the elevators, the bag of cash, discretely covered up by as stack of dirty clothes, over his shoulder. Floor 19 7pm. See me. The vague text sent an uncomfortable prickling feeling down his spine. He’d faced the end of the world, and yet the threat of organized crime still rubed him the wrong way. Call it bad memories. Being stuck in the trunk of a car for 31 hours could do that. He needed to make this quick and high tail outta here. And, Stan quickly reassured himself, he wouldn’t exactly be alone.

Though looking over at the oracle, who now eyed the fancy furniture and decoration with with annoyance, Stan wondered just how much faith he could put in his new inter-dimensional buddy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, per say, hell, he’d trust her over the angry yellow demon any day. Still, there was something off about her. Something that Stanley’s instincts had to remind him constantly of. Just how much did Ford really know about this woman? And who said she was who she said she was? Call him paranoid, but when was he not? Came with the trade, so to speak.

“So who are you meeting with? And how much can I bet on your survival?” Nora jumped up on the bed, the obscene amount of comforters bouncing under her weight.

“Nice to get some reassurance for once. And couldn’t you just look and see, anyway? Don’t you know the future?”

“I could…” she shrugged, “but it wouldn’t tell me anything. Not really.”

Well that was vague as hell.

The man grumbled, shouldering his duffel bag. “So your one superpower is basically useless. Well why the hell did I bring ya here then?!”

“That’s what I’ve been asking.”

Stan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Look, just...I’ma go and had ‘im the cash, hopefully won’t get jumped, and you, uh...do whatever you wanna do. I don’t know, watch TV or something.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“What question? Okay, bye!”

And he ran out, slamming the door behind him as he did.

…

He did not find the guy. The vague text message was the only thing he got, and after about an hour of scouting the corridor of Floor 19 Stan finally gave up and shrugged it off, deciding that the cash should be good for something, and made his way downstairs for the one thing this place was truly famous for.

...

“Hey buddy.”

Stan scraped up his tokens and grinned at the speaker lazily. “Yeah?”

The man looked like he was in his late thirties, his face still free of any wrinkles. Dark hair framed his long, oval-shaped face, a pair of expensive-looking spectacles sitting on his hook-shaped nose. “I see you’ve got quite a streak going. I won’t bother you, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in a game against me?”

“What kinda game?”

The man grinned, a golden tooth glinting in the dim lighting. “A game of opportunity.”

“Huh.” Stan watched the man grab a free table, sitting down and gesturing at the older man to follow suit. “I think I like ya already.” He sat down opposite. “So what d’ya want to bet on? Start small?”

The man was still smiling, something that Stan would find unnerving without the buzz of alcohol. “Oh no. There’s a loss far worse than money you can recover. Of course, I’d be needing the same in return.” He leaned in closer. “Time is much more precious than money, my friend.”

It was poker. It was literally just poker, and looking back, Stan kinda wished it wasn’t. Looking at a mystical game of chess or some kind of enchanted contest of weirdness would at least be bearable. His ego would still be intact. But poker? No, even the price of what he lost could not compare to just how humiliated he felt losing at the thing he was best at. But Stan lost, and the man just swept up all at chips, the subdued smile never leaving his stupid, pointy face. “Such a shame, really. I had honestly hoped I’d finally found a worthy opponent. You were close, my friend, but them’s the breaks.”

Stan briefly tore his hands away from his face to sigh, looking at everything but the man. “So what? You said we weren’t betting on cash. Just tell me what ya want so I can go already, you sleazy bastard.”

The man’s face warped into something truly sinister, his smirk spreading across his face. “I already took it, my friend.”

Suddenly, Stan felt like he was hit on the head with something impossibly heavy. Everything spun, his limbs felt incredibly weak, and as he stood up on wobbly legs he felt his spine curve downward a lot more than before. His eyesight was just awful, and it didn’t clear even as he rubbed his eyes. The skin on his hands felt thin and papery, and as the man slowly stumbed out of his seat and towards the hotel elevator, he knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

...

While Stanley went off on his quest to pay back what appeared to be the mafia, Nora realized there wasn’t really anything to do for her, not really. Watching television was like subjecting herself to a primitive form of mind-control. She could, of course, meditate, but that grew harder and harder the more time she spent on earth. Everything else was too distracting, too bright and loud for her to find that small empty space to bury her thoughts in. They just came crashing back in after she dispersed them, assaulting her with visions and worries and questions that she, for once, did not want answers to. She’d agreed to come here, why? To get away from Bill, was the immediate answer, but that didn’t work out the way she had wanted it to. Now instead of Bill there was Stanley. Stanley, who argued and made poor excuses and laughed at his won lame jokes in a way that made Nora’s heart ache. It was new, but incredibly familiar, like a case of deja-vu that did not end in a few seconds, but only strengthened every time Stan threw some banter her way. Honestly she’d have preferred Bill sulking around somewhere to this, this open interaction she didn’t have for so, so many years. It wasn’t until Ford’s brother left that she could finally start to sort it all out in her own head.

There was some scrambling behind the door. Nora sighed, opening her eyes. For a second she thought it was the mafia, but as the rest of her five eyes granted her a brief vision, she realized that was not the case. Something was terribly wrong.

The Oracle flung the door open, and a man tumbled into her, almost bringing both of them to the ground. A raspy voice whispered curses under his breath, and Nora finally recognized her human friend. Slowly, she closed the door with her free hand, using the other to help the man onto the bed. 

...

“What. Did you do.”

“We-ell, I, uh, hey you know how it is. The city of lights and all that, hadda at least give it a go-” There was a cough, but the voice did not clear up, just as ragged.

“...”

“A-and look, I thought I had pretty good odds, y’know? Been here more than you can count, have way more luck than imaginable, so, y’know…”

“Stanley, please tell me you didn’t make a bet with a god.”

Stan looked to the side, hands fiddling on his lap, and tried to ignore the sudden vicious pain in his back. And the ache in his joints. And the sudden rattle that appeared in his breath. “I can explain.”

Nora glared at him, the pointed look twice as terrifying. “Oh yes please do.”

“So, uh, there was this guy-”

“Oh who am I kidding! I should have known you would do this.” The woman threw her hands up, pacing back and forth in the suite. “I did know you would do this. But I didn’t- I didn’t think this you would be that stupid.”

“Alright, point taken! Now would ya stop trying to insult me every five sec- agh!” The con-man hunched over, his speech suddenly interrupted but a long coughing fit. It tore at his throat and made his chest ache like nothing he had ever felt before. Great. This is how I die. Over a stupid bet.

Wasn’t that how he expected to die, anyway?

The Oracle rolled her eyes, waiting until the hacking stopped and Stan regained his breath. “Right, don’t talk.”

“I got it.” He whined back, his body still fighting to cough up his own lungs.

“So, there was a man? And I suppose he offered you a drink?”

Stan shook, pounding his chest with all the strength his now frail arms could give him. “Was already drunk.”

A frustrated sigh. “And I suppose after you got hammered he offered you a deal?”

“A bet.” he coughed out.

Nora sighed. “But not for money.” She sat down next to him, shoulders hunched over.

“Oh yeah! He said somethn’ all mysterious-y, something like ‘You have-’”

“A loss far worse you can recover.” She finished for him. “I know what timeline this is.”

“Yeah, exactly that...You’re worse than my mother.”

She cracked a smile. “I’m an oracle. I’m worse than anyone’s mother.” Then she frowned. “You look terrible, by the by.”

“Thanks, I kinda guessed.” Stan slowly slid off the couch, straightening his back and heading toward the bathroom at a steady pace. “Well, time to see how well I-”

The scream and crash that came out from behind the door startled Nora to her feet. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m hideous!”

“Well, yes.”

His hair was white. Pure white, like a blank sheet of paper or the way the goat looked whenever Mabel was in a mood for playing dress-up. It was still there, thank God, but looked a lot thinner than it did only a few hours ago. The wrinkles that started showing up around the time he hit 40 were somehow only deepened, the now grey-ish skin sagging in places and folding up in others. What was once his face now seemed wrong, an unwarranted glimpse into what he should not be able to see, a punch of an existential crisis right in the gut, a-

“Stanley? Are you alright in there?”

Stan slowly backed away from the mirror, away from- that, shuffling out of the bathroom with more effort than should have been necessary.

Nora stared up at him from the edge of the bed.

“I think I just aged thirty years in one day. And man, I wish that was a joke.”

The Oracle sighed, casting her eyes somewhere Stan couldn’t follow, “You’d bartered on the thirty years you wanted back. And you lost.” She stared at him dead in the eye. “What did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t think anything! That guy-” Stan cut himself off, doubling into a wracking cough that made his aged body hurt in all the places he didn’t know he had.

“Careful, don’t have a heart attack, you’re ninety-two already.” Nora muttered under her breath, and the man wondered if that was a joke, too. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” She stood up, carefully guiding Staney to the armchair in the corner, helping him sit. “You are going to stay here, and hopefully not die by the time I get back. And I,” she stepped back, something settling in her gaze that made the con man shift a little. It was at that moment that he really saw something ancient before him, more ancient than even he felt like right now, and that thought chilled him to the bone. “I’m going to fix this.”

Stan blinked. “Got a plan more detailed than that?”

“Yes.”

“...Care to explain.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “The man that aged you, he’s most likely a lesser god or some kind of spirit. I’ve seen a couple of his type before, but never this bold. Anyway, their ‘deal’ is time. More correctly, lifespan. They barter and bet on the victim’s years, the mortal hoping to gain a few more decades on this plane of existence. Of course, it’s rigged, and the mortal always loses. This kind of gambling, ‘life gambling’, is banned in about 5 billion dimensions. This one as well. Still, I suppose Earth is remote enough to not me noticed by interdimensional relations. Or so they thought.”

“So, okay, he’s some kind of demon life gambler? What’s the point of taking time away though? Does he sell it?”

The Oracle smiled. “No, though that would be a feat to see. They consume it, the life force they take from people. Old gods have so few followers that their powers deplete to almost nothing. The only way they can keep themselves immortal is feeding off regular people.” She shrugged. “Though some of them do it for fun. Life force is still a lot of energy, after all.”

“And you’re- what? Gonna call the space cops on him? Take him for a night on the town?”

“Honestly, who do you take me for?” The Oracle straightened up, turning to head out the door, a smile already forming on her lips. “I’m going to beat him at his own game.”


End file.
